Rose Tint
by Orange Seltzer
Summary: It's Christmas day, and Harley's locked in Arkham, with only her thoughts to make it through the day. Her twisted, glass half full views on a few others.


Happy holidays. Just a rambling, I was feeling thoughtful.

X.x.x.x.X

She didn't know whether her new lithium pills were purposely green and red; but it was a nice coincidence. She was Jewish, but the commercialism of Christmas was something she was so used to, the way it over flowed and attacked the lesser festivities. _'Besides,'_ she decided long ago, _'Half the time the colors and the decorations don't have anything to do with virgins, and frankincense, and all those bells and whistles.' _She was so good at being the glass half full, and seeing things how she wanted them to be. Representing love, and peace was enough, that's what the colored lights meant, right? Unfortunately, the symbolism of colored lights was lost on several Arkham inmates. Harley found it comforting how whether locked away, or walking down the streets of Gotham, the holidays were bringing out the worst in people.

Including her Puddin.

His cell was nowhere near hers, but she could still here the yells, and cackles. Her Joker was always very vocal, and very temperamental, a combination that had been landing him in strait jackets with needles in his neck every few hours. It made Harley long for him, to be so close once more so that she had to cover her ears, and tense up. He was scary, and powerful, and she was still in awe, after all those years.

He was like a struggling artist. Instead of painting and sculpting, he killed and told jokes. She always wondered how nobody ever saw the funny side. Not even she, sometimes, got what was making him clutch his sides in hysterics. But she didn't want to be in the ranks of the rest of the world, so she joined in. She twisted the words, or the corpses in her head until they were just a blurry headache, and it was so frustrating, she'd double over and sob while giggling. Harley had gotten very good at it, it only took a second most times. Sometimes though, it was a second too long.

Even through the greasepaint, her black eye was apparent. When they were brought in, she was given some painkillers, and a pitied sigh. They didn't give her the battered women speech anymore, because, she told herself, they finally got it. The marks her Puddin' gave her were just another way to show that she was his. Marks of affections. It sounded so right, and convincible in her head.

Pam didn't like those points of view, but she was always grumpy in the winter. The only plants around were either cut down and stuck in living rooms, or poinsettias. They were nice, or at least Harley thought so. Maybe Red found them clichéd, or got angry about the lack of care they got; Harley's always died within a month. They were decorations, and she could never get into the state of mind that they were more than that. She promised herself that Red would never know that, and she'd try more next year. If she was out of course. There was a present in the flat she and Mistah J were hiding out in, one stolen just for her Pammy. A Christmas cactus. Still potted, although probably not alive anymore. Nobody but she knew it was there, with little red buds. It didn't matter if Red didn't like it, she'd love that Harley had bothered to get her something. Just like a family.

Nobody in Arkham really had visitors. Her family…well, wherever they were, it wasn't with her. All of the inmates were in their cells, and she wondered if they felt the loneliness too. Freeze probably missed Nora, but was it even more so during Christmas? Did he even like the winter holidays, or did he feel like having a quirk, and favoring Fourth of July? It made her sad for some reason, thinking of him in his snowy room. Unable to play in the snow-Harley giggled at the thought. He didn't play in the snow. He was the snow. Just like Red loved flowers, and her Puddin' loved chaos. They simply thrived in it. Sighing, she wondered where she thrived. Looking out the window, she saw flakes swimming through the air, disappearing quickly from the little window. Harley would play in the snow if she got a chance. She'd make a snow angel for her Joker, because her presents were in the apartment still. Nothing too special, just a new trench coat. It was getting cold out, and besides, it was the thought that counted. It was black, but lined with purple, and had green buttons. It was subtle, and perfect for spying and sneak attacks. Swooning, she wondered what her Mistah J got her. She didn't like to think of herself as greedy, not with him. A nice night drinking champagne, and watching the news. It was a tragic time of year, and if it made her Puddin' happy, she was happy. _'Maybe this year, we won't talk about Bats,' _she mused, the reality shut out from her mind. No throwing darts at the poster of him, just cuddling and cackling. Yes, her Puddin' would do that for, wouldn't he? He'd just need a little…convincing.

And she'd need to have the band-aids close by.

She was so good at pretending that she was going home in a few hours. She wasn't in Arkham again; this was a dream; her Puddin being wheeled down the hallway, high on sedatives was a delightful surprise, getting ready for their big night. His threats to the guards were really holiday greetings. The punches were their presents. Her Joker thrived on chaos. Harley Quinn thrived on oblivion.

X.x.x.x.X

I knew I had to write a Harley fic. It's not really romantic, just a nice little introspective? Will you buy that? Review?


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